Comprehensible Values TF:Prime
by andshecryz
Summary: Prime Wheeljack x Oc -Human x Bot relationship.-


**Disclaimer: Transformer character names belong to Hasbro Studios, Steven Puri, Mandy Safavi (and so on) unless stated an OC which in case belong to the author, andshecryz. No copyright infringement is intended. Plagiarism is theft so is prohibited. Do not copy or create a reproduction of this work in any language without express written authorization of the author, andshecryz. Thank you...Please enjoy c:**

_**Oc x Wheeljack (Beginning at Season 2 Episode 14: Triage)**_

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**Ch. 1 'Something Like an Astronomer'**

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Wheeljack was never one to be particularly worldly. He knew explosions, he knew Cybertron, he knew the Jackhammer. Despite what he was, often a rebellious scrap pile of hopeless expectations, but mostly a warrior traveling across the galaxies with no immediate destination...there was just a hell of a lot he didn't understand and didn't attempt to.

He accepted that most of the planetary life on this _'Earth' _would be understandably strange in comparison to his own. The backwards societies, the cultures from a different galaxy, the oddly similar histories it uncannily shared with his own planet. It wasn't his job to understand them, and in no way shape or form was it necessary. He was a Wrecker, not some liberal diplomat set on coordinating peace with the residential lifeforms. He didn't have to understand to fight.

Of course, when he thought about it, he didn't understand a lot of things about Cybertron itself. Iacon, absolutely. Vector Sigma, mostly. The war..._a lot._ Outside of that, his knowledge and his desire for knowledge were infinitely blunt. He still had yet to complain as far as being uninformed.

A wave of sparks stuttered out of the ship's inner wiring, pulling the mech out of his less than significant thoughts and making him step back in sudden agitation.

Although the damage was significant, he could repair it without much effort. That was at least what he kept saying, mumbling to himself, grunting out of perplexity every so often with the most agitated countenance fixated on whatever was bellowing an unhealthy amount of smoke from the ship's thrusters. He flexed his finger components before altering the frequency of his audio receptors and groaning at the continuos pulsing ache any sound managed to intensify.

He'd taken a beating, yes...but, just as he was never one to understand, he was never one to so blatantly admit he'd gotten his aft kicked. (By a Communications Officer no less.) Wheeljack would've had that scrap heap of a 'Con had he not cheated his way out with that relic, the fragger. Still he figured that was also his own fault, considering the required attentiveness to his surroundings was lacking as, well, always.

The panel slammed shut, making him visibly cringe and tap steadily at the side of his helm. It still beat like a drum and throbbed like a burn. Yet another complex form of science he did not and often refused to understand. Physiology was never his strong suit, and although he could clamp the pieces together to create a functioning processor, he'd have no even vaguely general idea what those specific pieces were for.

Something as simple as the clank of metal strung a processor-ache with enough pressure to combust a planet, meaning that whatever stupid piece of scrap relic that was...it worked. He still didn't understand.

Glancing back at the steaming panel he groaned again, pulling it open once more and observing the damage for the hundredth time.

So...maybe the Jackhammer would need more work than initially anticipated. The back struts were completely fried and several cables slumped, disconnected from the motors in a pathetic state of broken, fizzling malfunction. He let a heavy servo slide over his faceplates before grunting out o frustration.

A sound, so brief and muffled that he turned around as a first instinct, the noise vaguely echoing due to his audial damage. Defensive, is what he was. Offensive just as much. The familiar feel of fisted servos beckoned a bitter smirk and the tensed wires of preparation for whatever was spying made him twitch in crass anticipation. He could barely recall a point in his life where he _wasn't_ on edge, where paranoia and revenge didn't fuel him into a constant fit of energetic violence. It'd been a while. Too long.

Another noise, a small puff sounding something like air manifolds that, if he didn't discover the source now, would prevent him from any necessary recharge. He pulled a sword, stiff and still watching with a careful optic. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice in one cycle. No, he wasn't that bad.

But...something was off. In order to see this assumed antagonist he had to look down. The sound having been just barely loud enough to catch his direct attention. And there it was.

The human was small...squishy, insignificant in the sense of, well, everything. It appeared female, considering the body type. Large eyes, long strings on her head and the most vivid expression of wonder he'd ever seen cross anything organic. An older man follower up behind her, one hand on his worn-down cap with the other tight on her shoulder. The Wrecker rose a metal brow, optics swiveling to improve his focus before the repeated quote 'robots in disguise' reached the front of his memory cortex and made him slightly panic. (In a mechly Wrecker way, of course.) Sheathing his weapon Wheeljack looked around abruptly and, without much thought, transformed.

"Holy shit Richelle, you weren't lying."

"Frag it."

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By this point he'd made a dire mistake that if 'Team Prime' were to discover would end with...well, now that he thought about it, nothing particularly major. A look of distaste from that bitter femme, a groan from the Doc, followed by a careful explanation of why they kept hidden by Bulkhead. Maybe a speech from the Prime...maybe. And like the obviously well-behaved bomb enthusiast he was, he would nod like a idiot and smirk sincerely to show off his denta and agree as if he actually gave a scrap.

So in the long run there was actually nothing to worry about. Other than the strong possibility of less than capable humans being put into immediate danger. Not his problem.

"So the girl..." The discomfort he currently felt was never enough to dull his curiosity. An awkward situation was an awkward situation, which was unavoidable even with any attempts at casual conversation. That was something he _did_ understand. So when inquiring about this peculiar little human youth he only asked out of pure want for investigation. There was no intention of lifting the unsettling tension built over the soul fact that he was a robotic life form from another Galaxy. None whatsoever. Nothing of the sort.

"Richie?" The man responded to his insinuated curiosity. He was older, skin tanned fairly and brow creased with years of work, expression languid with a sunken tiredness about it and his hair was the color of metal strung with bits of faded color.

"Yea." A blunt form of acknowledgement, very necessary considering he'd just met these natives and extremely distant in hopes that they'd assist in fixing the Jackhammer so he could just fragging leave. He needed a part...a part he didn't have and a part that they certainly needed to make. It wasn't everyday that Cybertron opened ship-production industries on distant planets.

"That's my niece...she's just distracted is all. She'll acknowledge you eventually."

"Not really what I meant." He grunted, a creak in his joints making the man wince before he set a busted tool down.

"You mean what's wrong with her?" There was a pause, like 'Jack was deciding wether he should agree truthfully or simply imply another form of misunderstanding to avoid an unintended insult. But..._why lie?_

"Vocalizer broken?" He gave the old man a side-glance, watching him string an oil-stained hand through the shaved buzz of hair on his head before pressing his lips into a flat line and nodding at the ground.

"Naw, just kinda...'reserved', I guess." Wheeljack glanced in her direction, the same human who'd found him sitting cross-legged on the ground and taking notes of, what he assumed was, the sky. But Wheeljack didn't consider that the college-ruled notebook paper was her equivalent to that of a data-pad. Never, holograms were just so common, so useful and easy. So watching the human drag a stick against a white rectangle full of lines made her appear a little less than stable. She'd hardly looked up from her piles of notes.

"Figured you'd be a little more surprised..." A change of subject. A wise move considering he'd had no idea how to continue their previous one.

"Heh. I always knew you were comin'. Never once a doubt in my mind." The man had the fading remnants of a southern accent that, as somebot so foreign, he was unsure to name.

"Me?" A bit odd since, as far as he was aware, modern-day humans didn't act on tell-tale prophecy.

"Aliens, I mean..." He snuffed out his cigarette in the grass before sitting on the dirt of the ground. "We're stupid, just to let you know. Think we know everything and when we find out we don't we get mad and pretend we do. Proud too, always think we're the superior entities of this galaxy and convince ourselves that there's nothing else out there." He wiped his palms against his jeans, hands almost completely black from his fiddling within the Jackhammer and eyes squinting as the shine of the sun hit his irises while setting behind the elongated reach of trees. He adjusted his cap, toe of his boot digging fierce into the dirt.

"And you?" The metal of his brow arched, a small peak of curiosity making him ask.

"Richie's fault I'm no longer blissfully ignorant. She's been studying the stars for a while, got me into it with all the flares and inconsistencies they never tell you about on the news. She's some kind of Astro-looker, or Astronaut-"

She barely smiled at his falsified idiocy.

"-Astronomer." And finally the accused mute speaks. A tone so faint that 'Jack had barely heard it, and he narrowed his optics at the fact that she'd been listening to their conversation the entire time.

"So you _do_ talk." A little smug, but he forced it to be...said as a statement of observation rather than questioning the obvious.

He found it ironic that she didn't answer.

"Like I said, reserved." The man mumbled before heading towards the RV, wiping his hands with a tattered old cloth before tossing it onto the dash and removing a small white carton from his front pocket. He tapped at the bottom, placing the dispensed stick between his lips and continuing his blunt oration. "Now hopefully you won't be staying long enough to get used to her..."

"Never said I was staying at all."

The human chuckled and lit up, puffing out a gust of smoke as he grinned at the grass. He wiped at his aftershave, nodding absentmindedly as the thin wrinkles at the tips of his eyes grew more defined with his humored expression. He planted a solid foot on a rock, leaning down and shifting his weight. He acted nervous, and Markus Wallabe Ross would be damn stupid if he currently wasn't...being around a giant robot from a distant space and all.

"Sorry son, if you're what fell outta the sky last month...I doubt you're going anywhere." The sun was gone, much to Wheeljack's personal displeasure, meaning he'd sat trying to fix his ship for almost a full cycle. And now he was allowing some human flesh-bag tinker with his engines, despite the fact that the man could reach the smaller more concealed things without having to tear apart the ship's entire rear end. What exactly was preventing him from leaving? A busted gear and a few stripped wires...he would damn well leave when he pleased.

"Ay, I'm not some science experiment. Got that?" Of course 'Jack snipped at the human, pointing a strict finger component and narrowing his optics as though a line needed to be drawn. Although he was in the right, having watched several humans talk to him like he were some uncontrollable train wreck, which...in a skewed sense he often was, did nothing to improve his usually slow-boiling temper. And in as little time as he'd been here! But, as tense as this particular human suddenly was, Markus kept his fear visibly contained...and instead held up two defensive palms, gave a cheeky smile past a breath of smoke, and quirked his brows before looking to his interrupting niece.

"Uhm, don't leave just yet..." Wheeljack turned to face her, the request taking on an odd form verbal hesitation as she altered the magnification of her telescope. She currently refused to face him...being completely unsure of who and what _'it' _was as far as existence and morality, or if _'it' _even contained morals or emotions. Silly of her, sure, to invite and assist an alien life form that could possibly have ill intentions towards her entire planet; unwise to say the least. But she had to know. This was an opportunity swinging an axe into her front door and it would be beyond asinine to continue to board it up or, better yet, walk out of the house entirely. So Richelle swallowed the hesitation, gritting her teeth before opening her mouth to continue her request. "...if you don't mind I would like to known about your Galaxy and its configuration."

He chuckled coarsely at yet another bitter instance of irony, consider that he was undoubtedly the wrong bot to ask. Wheeljack, even in comparison to the duo before him, was still rather uninformed. And in cases such as these, where people expected something he didn't want to offer, he was proud to be so.

"Sorry, kid. Never knew much beyond our metal marble." He shrugged, his vague smirk being noted. And the girl briefly flashed a disappointed smile at the ground, the vague look of curiosity still creased into the her brow at the oddly human terminology of 'kid'. She didn't like that, how similar he acted to something with a conscious, but she wasn't even sure if he didn't have one. Hell, she wasn't even sure if he was actually a robot or something organic residing inside. That was distressing, realizing that you'd jumped to far ahead of yourself and assumed that this was what you'd seen fall from the sky over a month ago. And where was the companion thy followed him to Earth if so?

Very odd, considering how paranoid she was.

"That's...alright." What had really wanted to come out was 'I'm retarded'. Instead she looked at the Jackhammer, the concern still embedded into the girl's expression even as Markus shot her a look of hesitated warning. "Why're you on Earth?"

She watched her uncle bite hard on his cigarette.

"No real reason." He lied, finding it tediously humorous considering the previous instance of thinking 'why lie?'.

But what frag was he supposed to say? 'My kind is currently at war and during my travels an enemy destroyed one of my oldest and most appreciated companions just as we were meeting by tracking our signal? So I followed his aft to this pathetic, dramatically climated planet in hopes of revenge?' Actually...that might've worked.

"Lemme' guess-" Markus spit into the grass, unwilling to soften the usual habits despite their odd company. "Your planet was or is being destroyed and that somehow brought your huge ass here."

He pointed to the ground, indicating their world before snuffing out his second cigarette beneath his boot and grinning triumphantly at the oddly accurate effort of a guess. Wheeljack barely smirked.

"The frag'd you know?" The Wrecked crossed his arms, leaning back into the cliff and staring down at both humans as they exchanged eye contact.

"We'll it's in every damn alien movie ever made..."

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_**-End Chapter One**_

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**A/N: **_So, I've had this in my head for a while...and on top of it I have a decent story line chalk full of angst. Get yer tissues ready boys...it's about to get horrifically sad. _

_**Anyway, rvery episode of TF:P concerning Wheeljack I wonder where the hell the guy goes when he's gone. So here's my theory, lol.**_

_And I know what you're all thinking: 'What the hell Eva you have like twelve incomplete stories you tard. STAHP.' _

**_I'm working on it I swear. But here's my excuse, a lack of proper payment for the commissions causes me to place two stories on Hiatus until further notice. Including my Optimus x Oc. And the usual writers block. Hehe. Sorry all. I at least hope this is a good intro to a very long tale. _**

**_Lets see if I can get all my usuals on board. c;_**

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_**Review please! I'd love to hear what you all think so far! c: **_


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